


Spotted Nearby: Betty Cooper

by elysiumgates



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU Based on Season 1, Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friendship, HBIC Veronica Lodge, Jealousy, Mechanic Betty Cooper, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumgates/pseuds/elysiumgates
Summary: Veronica Lodge’s carefully constructed world shatters when a small town girl named Betty Cooper moves to the Upper East Side.aka, the gossip girl AU.[On temporary hiatus]
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. First World Problems (Nobody Cares)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, so since Season 1 of Riverdale, I've been interested in the idea of what Veronica and Betty's relationship would look like if Veronica never left New York and I decided I might as well write this story now while I have some more free time. I'm pretty excited about the story and so I hope you enjoy reading it as well.

_Welcome to a brand new school year, my dear readers._

_Did you miss me?_

_Of course you did. Who else would bring you the hottest intel this side of the Brooklyn Bridge?_

_For the newcomers in the room, welcome to the Rag Mag - the Upper East Side’s premier blog on all things salacious, insidious and utterly fascinating._

_Ever wondered what it was like to be a chosen one?_

_One of those lucky few, born with anything they could ever want? The type of people who don’t apologize for taking it all for granted?_

_Ah, yes, such is the luxe life of the rich and famous._

_Yet, underneath the layers of_ _Chanel no. 9, mulberry silk suits and floor-to-floor glass windows live a few well-dressed skeletons swept under the rug._

_Especially at the epicenter of our elite families: The Lakewood Institute — beloved school system for the future Basquiats, All-American CEOs, Presidents and myself, of course._

_And who am_ **_I_** _?_

_Merely an observer; writing about the faux masks we wear to hide our true faces in the cold light of day._

_Or (yes, melanie91, like you aptly assumed) maybe I’m just a sucker for excellent gossip._

_Either way, the Rag Mag prides itself on uncovering the best stories in Manhattan and my guts tells me that something big is brewing on the museum mile..._

* * *

Betty Cooper couldn’t wait for this day to end.

With her forehead wrinkled in concentration and tightly crossed fingers, she prayed for a miracle. 

Hell, even if she had mind control, Betty was sure her parents would still find a way to ignore what she wanted.

New York City was already _way_ too noisy — filled with traffic, subway trains, sirens and the drowning rumble of eight million voices that washed over her enough to render her numb.

She stared at the hustling passengers dodging past one another to catch their 8:30 trains. Grand Central Station felt like a living giant — breathing in tickets and spitting out people.

“Betty?”

Betty blinked, belatedly noticing the tight grip on her forearm and the agitation in her mother’s voice. 

“ _Betty_.”

Wilting under the glare she could see through Alice’s rimless Cartier sunglasses, Betty dug her clear-coated nails into the pit of her palms. 

“Yeah, Mom?” 

“I’ve been calling for your name for several minutes.”

“I’m sorry. I just —” Alice narrowed her eyes. Betty slumped over, doing her best impression of a crumpled hoodie, which, coincidentally, was exactly what she was wearing. “— I was daydreaming. Won’t happen again.” 

Alice pushed up her pink frames into her hair before grabbing her shoulders. “Have you been taking your medicine?”

As soft and comfortable as her favorite hoodie was, it was doing little to minimize the sting of Alice's stern hand gripping her shoulder. 

“Yes.” _No._ But Betty held firm to her poker face.

Alice sighed. “Betty, you can’t keep refusing to take your pills, with your father still grieving over your grandfather and Polly’s...problem, you —”

“Mom, you can say it.” Betty rolled her eyes. “It’s not like Polly has _leprosy_ , she’s just —”

Alice waved her hand, wiping the words from the air. “It doesn’t matter. Your father hasn’t been back here since he was young and I don’t intend to make him regret it. This place is our best chance to restart and I need you to understand that. I mean it, Elizabeth.”

Her mother was always doing this. _Perception, reputation_ — you’d think those were her first and last name with how many times her mother spewed them at her. Even now, for a 6am flight, Alice was wearing a smart charcoal dress underneath her pristine rosé blazer with not a smudge in sight. 

Alice waited, holding her daughter’s gaze in a chokehold. 

Betty swallowed her protests and sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it a chance.”

Alice flashed a pleased smile and released Betty’s shoulders, “Thank you Betty. Now let’s get moving, your father and Polly are waiting in the car. We still have many things to get done today.” 

Betty grabbed their suitcases and backpack, following her mother towards the exit.

“Wait, Dad’s picking us up?” 

“He just finished wrapping up the final preparations for the funeral. He wanted to surprise you and Polly.”

“Oh, cool.” Betty paused. “How is he holding up?”

Alice glanced at her over her shoulder. “As well as he can be in this situation. You know they weren’t very close but your father...your father looked up to the man in many ways.”

She frowned. “I’ve never seen him this sad before.” 

“His father hadn’t died then.” Alice slid her sunglasses down to her nose; her version of a punctuation mark.

Betty didn’t ask any more questions after that.

* * *

Veronica Lodge felt content for a regular Friday morning. 

She was pleased to see her junior year unfolding at a pace that she could control with ease. Her week had gone by uneventfully. Her grades were exceptional. Her social life was thriving.

And her boyfriend —“Hey, Ronnie.” Archie said as he slid a warm palm across the small of her Moncler-clad back — looked rather handsome in his school uniform as he basked in his lacrosse team’s win against Dalton. His bright, jaunty smirk suiting him much more than his moping spree as of late.

Veronica shut her locker and twirled in his arms. She took in the tailored fit of his tan chinos, complemented by a pressed white button-down with a crooked pinstriped navy-silver tie, and smiled because no matter how wealthy the Andrews were — Archie would always exude a boy next door aura right down to his well-loved chukka boots. 

“Congratulations on your win, baby.” Veronica wrapped her free hand around his neck and blended her burgundy nails into his fiery locks like a chameleon as Archie pulled her closer.

“Thanks, Chuck sealed the deal for us with his goal yesterday. But, I can’t lie. My game _was_ pretty solid knowing my favorite cheerleader was there yelling for me.” 

“And who would that be?” Veronica prodded.

Archie pursued his lips in thought and then teased. “Mrs. Grundy, of course.”

“Very funny.” Veronica mocked as she lightly smacked the back of his head. A possessive heat rose inside of her gut and so Veronica tugged Archie down into a slow kiss that she knew melted him.

“ _Ew_. Find a room, you hormonal animals.” A wry, mezzo-soprano voice spat.

Veronica stepped back from Archie, smirking at the glazed look in his eyes and the faint crimson stains smudged around his mouth. She fixed his tie, passed him her books and gave him a light kiss on the cheek before facing the two girls waiting behind her.

The brunette rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Oh please, Cheryl. Like I’ve never caught you practically mounted by a soccer player between classes?” The girls headed down the hallway, ignoring the occasional passerby who paused to take in the alluring sight of the trio.

Cheryl glared at Veronica, ignoring Josie’s snort from beside her. “Shut up, _Ronnie_. Besides a Blossom never rides bitch.” Cheryl flipped her hair and winked at Josie, who rolled her eyes at their antics.

Archie blinked out of his stupor and chased after the girls, holding Veronica’s books in his hands. “I can’t help that my girlfriend is super hot, Cher.” He wrapped a muscled arm around Veronica’s shoulders as Josie and Cheryl flanked them.

“Gag me, Justin Gingerlake.” Cheryl scowled.

Archie flashed her a winning smile. “With pleasure.”

“Can you guys not argue today?” Josie sighed, massaging her temples. “I have a music theory test next period and I don’t want a huge migraine while I’m taking it.”

Cheryl stepped next to Josie and rubbed her arms soothingly. “You need to stop stressing yourself out, sweetie. Besides with the way you’ve been studying, you could probably teach the class yourself.”

“Especially with the help of your awesome study buddy!” The booming voice of Reggie Mantle sounded from behind them. With the collar of his uniform shirt popped and tie conveniently missing, Reggie strode down the hallway to meet his friends.

Josie stopped by her locker, grabbing her No. 2 pencils and replacing them with her last class’s textbook. She turned and raised an eyebrow at a grinning Reggie, who leaned a bit too comfortably against the row of lockers next to her. “Yeah, you’re right Reggie. Where _is_ Chuck by the way?”

Reggie’s shoulders sagged as he pouted. “That’s so uncool, McCoy. You know you love me!”

Josie raised a manicured eyebrow and eyed him in distaste. “Yeah, like I love a heart attack.”

“Fine.” He opened his backpack and pulled out a stapled stack of paper. “I guess you _don’t_ want a copy of last year’s exam questions.” 

“ _What_? How did you even get this?”

“A sexy magician never reveals their secrets, McCoy.” Reggie waved the test above his head, avoiding Josie’s hands as she jumped to reach it.

“Let me see it, Reginald.” 

Reggie hummed in mock thought and slowly lowered the test as if to hand it over. “Nah, I don’t think so, you big meanie.” He shook his head and raised it higher. “You’ve broken my awesome heart by not admitting your love for me, Josie Posie. So, nope. No test for you.”

Josie growled, “I’ll show you a big meanie.” She pulled back her knee, when a soft hand grabbed her bicep. 

Cheryl tucked the girl into her side and patted her arm. “Josie, no matter how justified you feel, you shouldn’t hit people.” 

Reggie’s hand fell limp in surprise. “Wow, um, thank you Cheryl.” 

“Especially someone who’s mentally handicapped.” Cheryl said with the patience of a preschool teacher.

“Hey!” 

Josie took the opportunity to snatch the stack of papers out of Reggie’s unsuspecting hands and jog down the carpeted hallway. 

“Appreciate the help, Blossom.” She flashed Cheryl an impish grin when she passed her but it jolted into a squeal. Reggie had caught up to the girl and tossed her over his shoulder, marching the remaining distance to their class.

“Hold down her skirt, Mantle!” Veronica scolded. 

“Such _children_.” Cheryl muttered, and yet a small smile appeared on her lips, as she followed the duo’s path to her own advanced statistics class.

Veronica rolled her eyes and Archie shook his head at the calamity that was their friends.

* * *

As she rolled her and her sister’s luggage in, Betty was surprised at how much space the Brooklyn residence had.

Their new condo couldn’t have been more different from the quaint suburbs of Riverdale.

The Coopers had traded away plain fixtures for sleek appliances, stuffy rooms for a more open-concept design, and weathered, generational walls for a soft cerulean blue that would brighten the smoggy overcast that was infamous in this city.

The high ceilings, cherry hardwood flooring, big windows, and a generous patio were a far cry from their old home, and Betty was somewhere between shock and awe.

“Woah.” She mumbled.

“This place is _incredible_.” Polly exclaimed as she waddled through the door. Her canary sundress and headband matched the bright smile on her face.

“I hoped you guys would like it.” Hal Cooper said as he carried their mother’s luggage inside, Alice following closely behind. 

“How did you even afford all this?” Betty knew that her parents owning the only publishing company in Riverdale left them living comfortably but she had no idea _how_ comfortable until now.

“Well,” Hal scratched his chin, “with the inheritance from the will, the money from selling the Register and the income from me taking over your grandfather’s company — we’re able to cover everything that’s important.”

From her seat on the living room’s plush, marigold mid-century sofa, Alice added: “Polly’s college tuition, your tuition, bills. Your grandfather, rest his soul, gave us an opportunity for change, girls, so we can’t waste it.” 

Hal’s proud smile wilted and Betty saw his eyes become withdrawn, like he had checked out of the conversation.

Betty crossed her arms. “I still don’t get why Polly can’t come to school with me. She doesn’t need to go to college a year early.”

“Betts, leave it. I have enough credits that it makes sense. ” Polly begged, feeling a rehash of this worn argument bubbling. 

“No, Polly, it doesn’t make sense. You can’t just be hidden away like this. Stuff like this happens all the time.” Betty protested.

“There are _consequences_ for every action, Betty. Polly is not exempt from that and we’ve already had this conversation many times.” Alice shook her head and sighed, “With your father becoming CEO of GarageMedia, we can’t afford any potential scandals right now especially from inside the family. Polly will blend in better if she just commutes to Barnard.”

Betty’s mind refused to move from that word. “Polly isn’t a scandal, Mom.” 

Alice pursued her lips and looked away. Betty clenched her fists.

“No, she is not.” Hal agreed. “But, honey, wouldn’t it be easier on your sister if she was able to go through this and get a great education without her name being slandered in some sleazy magazine?”

“...Yes.” She grumbled. It made sense but her mother’s words still scratched at her.

“Come on, Betty.” Polly grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her towards a long hallway. “Let’s go find our rooms.”

After helping Polly unpack, Betty found herself alone for the first time that day. Her new room was equipped with cream walls, blush-colored furniture and a sleigh bed. The bookshelf made her smile at her dad’s thoughtfulness and the view outside her bedroom windows made her gape. 

Downtown Brooklyn was shining in all its glory and though she could see tons of rush hour traffic moving in the streets, not much sound bled through the windows.

 _Must be soundproof._ Betty mused.

She sat down, rested her head against the bedside facing the windows and felt her mind drift.

Later, a knock interrupted her thoughts. 

Her father opened the door and peeked his blonde head through. He brandished a house key and a bowl of mixed fruit. “Delivery for a Ms. Betty Cooper.” 

“Come in.”

Hal ambled through and eyed the way Betty clasped the hoodie in her hands. He plopped down on the floor next to her and handed Betty the bowl after setting the key on the nightstand. They both stared out the window for a moment of companionable silence before Hal spoke:

“Betty?” 

“Hmm?” Betty mumbled, munching on a tart square of pineapple as she looked at him.

“I know being a new kid can be tough and it’s not easy moving to a new place after being in Riverdale for so long...but I want you to know that all tough stuff eventually ends and I’m here if you ever need to talk. Besides I’m gonna be a new kid myself so we’re in the same boat.” Hal gave her a tiny smile.

Betty took in her dad’s expression. Underneath the humor, his eyes were unreadable - bordered by shaded circles and paired with a 5 o’clock shadow. With his jokes and never ending pride, sometimes it was difficult to see that Hal Cooper was going through a tough time too. She may be stubborn and dreading what Monday will drag through the door but she’ll always be her father’s daughter.

“Thanks, Dad.” Betty placed her bowl down and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you.” 

Hal held her close and rubbed her back. “Right back at you, kiddo.” 

Eventually they parted and Hal grunted as he stood up, shaking the dust off his joints. “Let’s go see about getting your school stuff for Monday.”

“And milkshakes?” Betty’s hopeful smile perked up.

Hal playfully yanked her ponytail. “You got it, super sleuth.”

* * *

Friday afternoons at the Lakewood Institute always left the hallways feeling a bit cleaner, the sun shining through the windows a bit brighter, and the students’ smiles lasting a bit longer as they poured out of their classrooms and headed to their lockers to grab their things and head off to awaited weekend plans.

Veronica was no exception to this rule. She packed away her notebooks into her backpack — idly listening to Chuck’s story about his animation teacher as her friends grouped around her locker, waiting for Veronica to finish. 

“—then he said ‘this artform is a wonderful expression of the female form and you guys would do best to follow my example’ and whipped out a drawing of some ugly chick with huge anime titties!” Chuck finished.

Cheryl, Archie and Josie burst out laughing.

“In my head, I’m like damn, I love boobs as much as the next person but it looks like he drew boulders on her chest.” Chuck shook his head. “Man is a fucking weirdo.”

“That class sounds nuts, dude.” Archie wiped tears from his tears and patted Chuck’s shoulder.

“At least you had an interesting class,” Josie argued, “my music exam was super boring.”

“Do you think you did well?” Cheryl asked, slinging her sapphire Birkin bag unto her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Josie shrugged, “even though Reggie’s goofy ass was whispering to me during the whole exam. Those tests were a lifesaver.”

“Guys, I just saw the _sweetest_ piece of ass.” Reggie called, jogging from the front office.

“Speak of the devil...” Cheryl rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Mantle!” Principal Grundy barked, her silver hair tousled with irritation. “Watch that language, young man, before you get detention.” Her wrinkled, stern face spooked Reggie into a mock salute.

“Sorry, Principal G, won’t happen again.” Reggie wilted, until she walked back into her office, and then hustled over to the group. “How does she always manage to sneak up on me like that? She’s like 100.”

“Probably some old lady pilates to stay limber.” Chuck said. They slapped their hands together into an intricate handshake before fist bumping.

“Hm.” Reggie tilted his head and pondered. “That’s kind of hot...oh! Speaking of hotness, I was helping Ms. Philips with the copier and this blonde chick and her dad came in asking for uniforms and a schedule.”

“So?” Veronica shut her locker and they all headed out of the school.

“Soo, the girl’s gonna be going to school here and she’s smoking.” Reggie raised his hand towards Veronica. “Can the choir say ‘spank bank?’” 

“You’re a pig.” Veronica rolled her eyes. The residual summer heat of early September warmed the group when they walked outside. It felt like a good weekend to party, so she turned to Cheryl and Josie, gave them the look and said: “Clubbing, tonight?”

Josie raised her eyebrows in intrigue and Cheryl cheered. “Ooh, yes, I just got this amazing McQueen dress that I’m dying to wear.”

“Hell, _yeah_. I’ll get us some drinks tonight and we can make this a real party.” Reggie threw his arms around the girls and grinned.

“Mantle, it’s girl’s night.” Cheryl pinched the heavy arms on her shoulders and smirked at his retreat and yelp. “So no boys _or_ ignoramuses...” The two dissolved into another argument.

The group stopped by their cars and rested against them. Veronica leaned back into Archie’s arms as he sat on the hood of his car and discussed an upcoming concert with Josie and Chuck. She threw an aimless glance around the parking lot, basking in the gentle breeze and taking in the passing students and faculty. 

Everything felt right.

And then Veronica felt something else — a small itch on her temple — like _someone was_ …

Her gaze met curious sea-green eyes across the parking lot, took in the buttery blonde hair thrown in a messy bun and frowned at the rumpled, nondescript hoodie the girl was wearing.

_...watching her._

The stranger’s small smile lifted higher as the staring contest continued. And Veronica thawed from the weird state she had been frozen in since looking at _hoodie girl._

She raised an eyebrow, irrationally irritated, and pursed her lips into a thin line. Something about this girl caught her off guard and she didn’t like it at all. 

Hoodie frowned at Veronica’s obvious displeasure but was distracted by an older, similar looking man — _must be her father_ , Veronica mused — who said something she couldn’t hear from her spot.

“— Lodge, are you ready to go”? Cheryl asked, waving her hand in Veronica’s face. 

She turned around to see what had captured her attention but Veronica had already snapped her gaze away from the girl yet caught her and her father entering a car and driving off in her peripheral. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She turned to Archie and pecked him, a bit absentmindedly, on the lips. “Later, baby.”

“Bye, Ronnie.” The jock smiled into the kiss and waved her goodbye.

Veronica walked over to the backseat of Cheryl’s cherry red coupe as Josie slid into her implicit shotgun. 

As Cheryl revved up her engine and exited the parking lot, Veronica leaned her head against the window and ignored every floating thought that held rumpled hoodies or too bright ocean eyes.


	2. Them Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews, kudos and bookmarks! They're very much appreciated and pushed me to get this chapter out. Enjoy, let me know your thoughts and have a great week.

The funeral service on Saturday had been a predictably somber affair, filled to the brim with all kinds of people from her grandfather’s life. Grief hung in the air like stale potpourri.

Louis Harold Cooper had been a stern, strong-willed man. A man who prided himself on using his hands and — after fixing lawnmowers, then cars for spare change — one who’d become Riverdale’s resident mechanic at the young age of fifteen. He’d been known for his eerie ability to understand the aches and pains of a vehicle before even breaking out his toolbox. And when a streak of crimes, including murder, plagued Riverdale, Louis Cooper had taken upon himself to use said intuition to investigate and discover the criminals. His famed local capture had led to a career on the Riverdale police force and then later, a switch to investigative journalism and after that, only the stars out of his reach. Or rather, the Big Apple.

 _Solving issues is in our blood, Lizzie._ He told her during one of his rare visits. Even during the quiet moments, fishing with him at Sweetwater River while Polly chased monarch butterflies on the bank, he had seemed bigger than life. A warm, benevolent, large shadow. 

GarageMedia had sprouted from a small town shop to a powerful media corporation, and in between business, administration and publicity - there hadn’t been much time that Louis found to spend with his wife and son or even, over time, his son’s own wife and children.

And, while his distance had sparked an insatiable curiosity in Betty, it had rotted out a widening pit in Harold Cooper. Because while Louis Cooper was a good man, he was not a very good father. 

In the front row, sandwiched between her sister and her mother, Betty glanced at the tearful eyes and bowed heads of the audience paying their respects and then turned to watch her father. Harold Cooper stood tall, even as his neck drooped, reading from his prepared eulogy — a sturdy sal tree swaying alone in a Bengalese monsoon. He spoke of her grandfather’s legacy, Louis’ relationship with her late grandmother, his impact and the giant footsteps left behind. Yet Betty knew what he was really saying. After all, her own mother brought out the same in her. 

_I will not fail you. Even though you found me wanting._

So as the dark cherry coffin lowered, an Osiris-like omen wrapped in its slow descent, Betty felt a distant ache for a man she hadn’t known — not really anyways. 

But she loved her father. And that was enough for her heart to _bum-bum_ to the cadence of quiet loss.

* * *

“Come _on_ , Betty! Mom’s waiting downstairs.” Polly shouted from the foyer.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Betty yelled, stuffing her notebooks into her rucksack with a speed that could rival Roadrunner. She grabbed her uniform tie from a pile of unfolded laundry and jogged out of her room.

Though she had made plans to unpack and finally settle into her new room, the weekend had taken more out of her than she expected. Though, she figured, most funerals weren’t designed to leave you well-rested. After the service, her father had spent the rest of the weekend holed in his home office and when Monday hit, her mother informed her that he had already been in GarageMedia by the time her morning alarm went off. 

She plucked a granny smith from the ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. Polly glared, tapping her wrist when Betty finally shut the front door behind her. “What’s your deal, polly pop?” Betty teased. “It’s not like you’re driving.”

“It’s our first day. And you know my lecture starts before your first class.” They stepped in the elevator. The feeling of twenty-five floors separating their front door from the outside still struck Betty as bizarre but she credited it as a part of New York life. 

“Yeah, but, the first week of classes are always super easy.”

“Says the straight A student.” Polly scoffed, folding her arms.

Betty looked puzzled. “Wha— you _also_ get great grades, Polly, so I don’t get why you’re freaking out.”

“I’m _not_ freaking out.” Polly stated. Betty watched as she started tapping her nails rapidly against her bicep.

“Seriously.” Betty grabbed her sister’s shoulder and made Polly face her. “What is it?”

Polly sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “I’m just nervous. This is my last chance with Mom and what if things go terrible at school? I have to make new friends, you’re miles away and with the b—”

“ _Polly_ .” Betty rubbed her back. “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you worry about every single that _might_ go wrong.”

“...yeah, well, you asked.” She sunk into Betty’s hand.

“I know. And I also know that no matter where we are, if you call for me, I’ll come running.” 

Polly’s lips trembled, a suspicious shine appearing in her eyes that put Betty on edge. “I love you, Betty.”

“Oh!” Betty suddenly had her hands full of sobbing sister. She shook her head and muttered, “ _Every_ single time.”

Eventually, the growing puddle on her Lakewood blazer proved too much to ignore. Betty rubbed her sister’s back and bit back a smile at Polly’s neediness. “All my clothes are gonna end up water-logged at this rate. You might have to open a dry cleaning business.”

Polly leaned back, sniffling. She seemed far too distraught at Betty’s bad joke and Betty rolled her eyes at her sister’s personal brand of teen hormones. “I’m sorry, Betty. I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes.”

“I was _kidding._ ” A melodic ding filled the space and the elevator doors slid open to the parking garage. “Saved by the bell.”

Their mother sat waiting in the driver’s seat of their family’s newly purchased SUV. It had been another lifestyle upgrade and while Betty planned on eventually using the subway when their parents eventually got too bogged down with the company and ongoing stories — she decided to enjoy the free ride and the rare moments her mom chose to bond with her and her sister.

_Beeep!_

Eyeing them with impatience, Alice held her hand on the horn. Betty and Polly side-eyed one another, rolling their eyes in unison before they jogged off to the car.

* * *

Betty had seen numerous pictures, read a few articles about the elite school, even seen the back entrance of it last Friday, but none of those compared to taking it all in as the new girl on her very first day of school. She looked through the windshield of the slightly dated Honda in awe at the magnificent building of The Lakewood Institute. 

_This...This can’t be an actual school._ Betty thought. _It looks like a mansion._

An anxious sweat broke out from under her starched Gap collar. She fumbled with her door handle and stepped out of the car as she took in the Georgian-Colonial architecture and stark white pillars that stood proudly supporting the entranceway’s roof. She glanced down at the beautiful unblemished cobblestone that made up the pathway to the giant, dark wooden door and took in the massive brick courtyard that surrounded the pathway on both sides with an apprehensive gaze. She was thunderstruck at the beauty of the campus.

“ _Elizabeth_.” Betty spun around, blinking away the fog at her mother’s stern, lighthouse gaze.

“Remember, that is an important opportunity.” Betty felt an eerie need to bark _Ma’am, yes, Ma’am!_ “Especially since this year is the most crucial for colleges. I love you, don’t disappoint us.” 

“I love you too.” Betty nodded, though _Kill Bill_ sirens rang in her head. “Thank you for the ride, mom.” 

She yanked open the back door of the car to grab her knapsack and wandered towards the school. The closer she got, the more details became noticeable; the meticulously up-kept statutes; numerous business quotes etched into the walkway; and the school's coat of arms embroidered onto the massive wooden doors. The entire school seemed to burst at the seams with wealth.

She glanced down at the schedule in her hands, she was supposed to head over to the welcoming committee for an official school tour. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed her way through the entrance.

The interior of the building was probably more magnificent than the exterior. Marble flooring was sprawled out before her on the first floor, along with numerous winding staircases with finely crafted Victorian railings. Her jaw dropped at the large chandelier in the dead center of the room. It took about five minutes for Betty to realize that she was standing there gaping like a dunce and that she didn't have a clue as to where to go. The tour guide had to be somewhere nearby.

She watched the passing students and noted the similar uniform she was also donning. Her mother had insisted on Betty wearing the pleated, navy skirt instead of the tan chinos that were also part of the clothing package she received on Friday. And she wasn’t particularly against wearing skirts but as more than one boy eyed her legs like they were the last barbecue rib at July 4th cookout, she missed the quiet fortitude of pants. 

Another boy hurried by, glanced at her and then paused. He resembled Montgomery Clift with his round chin and the coiffed, well maintained gleam of his dark hair.

She watched him survey her outfit from her toes to her ponytail with the focus of an eagle. And before she even opened her mouth to ask him _what the hell he was staring at_ , the boy’s unreadable leer was transformed into bright friendliness from his bursting smile.

He strode over to her. “Well, don’t you look like a slice from the Marlene Dietrich pie?” His tone was covered in sly approval.

Marlene Dietrich? 

_Oh_. 

Definitely not leering then. 

And Betty recognized that voice from somewhere. “...Hey, did we by chance, speak —“

“— on the phone last Friday?” He summed up and led them out of the foyer and into an adjoining hallway. “Yup. It’s good to finally meet you, Elizabeth. Welcome to the Lakewood Institute.” He twirled his hands with the energy of a carnival barker. Betty noticed his name-tag, flashing in the light. “I’m Kevin Keller, head of the welcoming committee.” 

“Thanks, you too.” She hiked up her backpack higher onto her shoulder, taking the various framed photos of the school’s long, impressive history. “And, uh, I prefer Betty.”

“Hm.” He scanned her once more before nodding. “It suits you. Relaxed, sweet and pretty.” 

Betty raised an eyebrow at his forwardness. “You don’t even know me.”

“No.” Kevin agreed. “But there’s a certain personality mold for most people here. Think _Repli-Kate_ , but more elitist. It’s not hard to see what stands out in this gilded cage. And my dad’s a police captain so I’ve picked up some things from him.” He shrugged and eyed her class schedule. 

Betty shook her head, entirely dubious. “This place isn’t _Mean Girls_ .” She chuckled. Riverdale High had its moments of weirdness, sure, but at its core it was still a _regular_ school. Filled with jocks, nerds, popular kids and all the remaining slices of their small town high pie. So the Lakewood Institute had to be the same, right? Even with its immaculate cobblestones, gleaming architecture and students who wore their uniforms like they were modeling for J. Crew...

Her mind started connecting doubts and assumptions like existential legos. Betty’s smile wilted.“Is it?”

“Of course not.” Kevin wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he led them to her first. “It’s worse. On the bright side though, I’m a much better Damian. I mean, I _get_ that it was 2004, but a soggy neon blue polo under short sleeve plaid? Not even a _blind_ butch would throw that on.” 

Betty sighed, feeling a headache blooming in her temples. _Maybe Barnard had an open spot for last minute transfers._

* * *

Betty’s first two classes flew by as quickly as she expected and as awkwardly as she feared. 

Honor Physics was the worst wake-up call in the world. Her teacher had assigned a pop quiz on Linear Motion and in the midst of moving and the funeral Betty hadn’t had time to review the chapter. When she tried to explain her situation, Mr. Howitzer — a former NASA engineer and ex-drill sergeant whose voice was somehow taller than his lean 6’ 2” frame — dismissed her words as a ‘flaccid, cowardly excuse to avoid character building work’ and made her take it anyway. And when Betty managed to find a seat amidst the side-eyes, blatant stares and poorly hid chuckles, her only pencil snapped. Preferring to step barefoot over hot coals than raise her hand or ask a neighbor for a replacement, she stayed quiet and handed in a blank paper with her other hand clenched tightly by her side. 

Somewhere, uptown, Polly had to be laughing at her. _Syllabus week_ , Betty thought, _my ass_.

French III had gone much better if you considered that her teacher wasn’t an American reincarnation of Hitler. Madame Dumont had Betty stand up and introduce herself in French and while Betty stumbled over the occasional conjugation and the stares from her other classmates hadn’t stopped, the class had gone smoothly.

When the bell rang, Betty headed out of the classroom. She peered down at her schedule and the map Kevin had drawn. Lunchtime. Her locker seemed to be on the next floor, but the back stairway she found to her class was different from the hallway she was in now. Maybe she should turn around and —

“Oof!”

“Shit!”

She collided into a hard body, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Betty raised her head from the muscular chest she collapsed on and stared, wide eyed, into the startled eyes of the boy beneath her. Paper, binders and books made scattered snow angels around them and a small crowd of students standing by their lockers stared at the scene. Betty felt embarrassment cook her belly in a boiling pot. She jumped onto the floor, grabbing every item into a pile without a care of who it belonged to. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

She reached out to lift another textbook when long, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist. The boy flashed her a small smile when she looked at him. His bright, copper hair complimented the warmth of his brown eyes well yet Betty froze, glancing down at his hand.

The boy released her wrist and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, it’s just, that’s my textbook.” 

“Oh, uh, here.” Betty nearly shoved the textbook into his chest. “I am _so_ sorry that I ran you over. I wasn’t watching —

“No worries, I was looking down at my phone too.” He waved the culprit in his hand. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if I saw you coming and didn’t manage to dodge you.” The boy chuckled. 

“Right.” Betty nodded. “Still, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m Archie.” 

“Pardon?” Betty’s eyebrows scrunched together. _Maybe it’s some school lingo Kevin hadn’t told me about._

“My name.” He stood up and held a hand out to her. With some hesitation, she grabbed it and he pulled her up. “Archie Andrews.”

“I’m Betty.” She frowned at his hand still holding hers and pulled back gently. She wrapped her arms around her books and held them close to her chest.

Archie nodded in a ‘ _cool, cool’_ manner and ran a hand through his tousled locks. “So..are you new here? I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Yeah, I just moved here from Riverdale.”

Archie blinked, his expression blank.

Betty sighed. “Upstate?”

“Oh!” Archie nodded. “My dad took me to Rome one day to check out some properties. There’s a lot of great areas up—”

“Archie?” A low, dulcet voice came from behind him. 

He jumped and turned, flashing the person a charming grin. “Ronnie.” He lifted an arm and a girl settled into his grasp like a poised puzzle piece. 

Betty’s eyes widened. It shouldn’t mean much that this face was familiar. After all, it wasn’t like they officially met with a parking lot separating the two. Yet, Betty couldn’t hide the flutter of excitement, the small heat that rose in her cheeks when she looked at her. To be succinct, the girl was a showstopper—cafe au lait skin, glossy black hair but it was really her eyes that stopped Betty. Whereas Archie’s brown eyes radiate a boyish warmth; the girl’s dark eyes were _backlit_. And Betty didn’t know whether to compare it to a bedroom after midnight or the process of coal: intense heat, a deep black creation space and —

“Betty, this is my girlfriend Veronica.” He gestured toward the girl next to him. “Veronica, this is Betty. She’s new here, just moved down from Riverdale.”

“Hi.” Betty, shy and insatiably curious, held out her hand. 

Veronica’s crimson lips curled up into a half-hearted imitation of a smile. She glanced at Betty’s hand like it was a muddy stray.

“ _Riverdale._ So you’re from the backwoods.” 

“Backwoods?” The word sank into her gut, crushing the warm butterflies from before. She retracted her hand. Riverdale was _small_ , sure, but the way she said that word...

“Just a bad joke.” Now, Archie seemed embarrassed as he interrupted. “Most of the kids here grew up in the city. Ronnie’s super worldly, but small towns aren’t really in her arsenal.” 

Betty figured. Even in a school uniform, the girl looked like she jetted to Milan on weekends just to get gelato.

Archie nudged Veronica. She sighed. “So, how are you finding our school?”

“Well, Archie just saw how badly I suffered from new girl syndrome. So, so far, a perfect ten.” Betty shook her head at the boy. They shared a laugh — one rueful, the other amused. Betty glanced at the girl, laugh fading at the intense gaze looking back. 

Different from her mother’s sharpness.

Different from the random leers.

Different from Kevin’s assertiveness. 

Different from Archie’s curiosity.

Betty couldn’t name the emotion in them. Veronica’s eyes on her just didn’t _feel_ the same.

Veronica cleared her throat. Her eyes became quieter and Betty’s shoulders relaxed. 

“What are you doing on Wednesday morning.” It should’ve been a question, but Veronica’s tone of voice had turned it into a statement.

Betty blinked. “Uh, going to school?”

“No.” Archie spoke up. “There’s no school this Wednesday. Every second week of the semester, the teachers have a day of meetings. Scheduling in classes, upcoming career fairs—”

Veronica waved her hand. “Regardless, my friend Cheryl’s moving her Sunday brunch to tomorrow to celebrate the new school year. You should come.”

Betty didn’t think she heard that right. And as she heard the small gasps from the peanut gallery around them, she guessed it wasn’t a normal thing for the girl to say. “I should?”

“She should?” Archie parroted, excitement beaming off him.

“Yes.” Veronica raised a manicured brow. “It’d be good for you to get to know your classmates and of course, vice versa.”

“And there’s really good food. Last week, the Blossom’s chef made this tiramisu cake that tasted like an Italian birthday in my mouth.” Archie’s eyes had glazed over.

“Oh, okay. Sounds like fun.” Betty agreed, though the idea of her classmates knowing things about her wasn't so comforting.

“ _There_ you are, Betty.” Kevin stepped out from the stairway adjacent to Betty. “You were supposed to meet me by your—oh, Veronica, Archie.”

“Keller.” Veronica spared him a glance before looking back at Betty. “Bring your family too. And since Keller’s going as well, you can ask him for details.” Veronica said as she walked past them.

“See you later. It was nice meeting you, Betty.” Archie waved, a big grin on his face.

The picturesque pair strode down the hall, leaving a scattered trail of staring admirers in their wake. Several of them pulled their cellphones out of their pockets and began texting with a fury.

“Holy shit.” Kevin gaped. “Do you know who that was?”

“Archie and Veronica?” Betty answered, walking with Kevin in the stairwell.

“She said with _none_ of the appropriate tone.” Kevin managed to look both confused and offended. “That was Archibald Andrews and Veronica Lodge. They don’t ring a bell?”

“They have really interesting names?”

“Really _rich_ names. Like nearly a hundred million, each.”

“ _What_?”

“Veronica’s family owns Lodge Industries which is a fin-tech giant and the Andrews run a construction company and real estate firm. Archie’s great-grandfather built _The Dakota_.”

“So, the fact that Veronica invited me to Cheryl’s brunch is...”

“Unheard of!” A small buzz echoed in the stairway. Kevin fished out his phone and clicked on a notification. “Look.”

The website he showed her was sleek in its black design. Excerpts of the site’s recent blog posts were organized in the main section with incoming live tweets popping up in the side panel. At the top, in bold white, were the words THE RAG MAG with an animated crumpled cloth being thrown into a garbage bin. 

Kevin scrolled down and clicked on the latest blog post, posted as of five minutes ago. 

_Hello again, dear readers._

_The first week arrived and left with traditional ease. But this morning, our beloved Lakewood castle had an unusual incident in its hallowed halls._

_Spotted Nearby: Betty Cooper. According to my sources, it seems that the new girl had a bit of a spill with our resident prince charming, Archie Andrews. Do we see sparks flying? Don’t believe me? See for yourselves. Lucky for us, Shawn_Dog sent proof. Thanks for the photo, Shawn._

_And another intriguing twist - Veronica Lodge, our fearless leader, inviting the new girl to the Blossoms’ back to school brunch? One of the more exclusive events this side of the Hudson River. Color us all surprised._

_Is the evil queen actually turning over a new leaf? Or is this all a ploy to stake a claim on her on again, off again boyfriend?_

_There’s nothing I love more than a good story. And this could be a classic._

_Stay tuned,_

_The Catcher_

“What the hell is this? And there was no _moment_.” Betty waved her hands, dubious. “I was a klutz, he helped me up and we started talking. Besides if Veronica wanted me far away from her boyfriend, why would she invite me?”

“Veronica is a relaxed viper on a great day. She might be just trying to keep an eye on you.” Kevin grabbed her shoulders. “I believe you, Betty, but you should be careful. I’ve known these people since I was thirteen. They’re fascinating, yes, but they’re also not a bear you want to be poking.” 

Thoughts buzzed around her mind. “So don’t go?” 

“And snub a _Lodge_ invitation? Definitely not.” Kevin’s affronted expression was enough to make Betty amused. Even amidst his doom and gloom anthem about the woes of high society, the siren call of the elite seemed too wonderful to pass up. “You should go, just try to limit your time with Archie. No matter how dashing he looks in a well tailored suit.” Kevin sighed.

Betty smiled and shrugged. “Archie’s handsome, but he’s not really my type.” 

Kevin eyed with her that same interest from earlier. “And what _is_ your type, Ms. Cooper?”

“Oh, uh...” Betty froze.

“No worries, tell me when you feel ready.” Kevin tucked her arm in the crook of his as they went off to find her locker. He gave her a mischievous side-eye. “But, we obviously know it’s me.”

They laughed together all the way down the stairs.


End file.
